With Your Hands
by celeste9
Summary: "I smell like a manure pile," Becker said forlornly, staring pathetically down at himself. Becker/Jess


_****_A/N: For kink bingo, "washing/cleaning".

_**With Your Hands**_

"I smell like a manure pile," Becker said forlornly, staring pathetically down at himself.

Jess wrinkled her nose and resisted the urge to back away. "Yes, you do. Don't come any closer and don't you dare touch me."

Becker cast her a betrayed look. "You're supposed to say something like, 'Oh, no, Becker, it isn't that bad.' You are the worst girlfriend ever."

"No, I'm not. I'm the best girlfriend you could ever hope to have."

"Why is that?"

Steeling herself for an arduous task, Jess wrapped her hand around Becker's elbow and tugged. At least that part of him _looked_ clean. "Come with me and you'll find out."

The locker room was empty and Jess closed the door after them. She stood in the middle of the room and reached behind herself to unzip her dress, shimmying out of it. She hid her smile at the expression on Becker's face as he stared at her in her heels and underwear and then kicked off her shoes before removing her bra and panties as well.

"Are you coming?" Jess asked and walked into the shower area.

Becker followed, his own clothes discarded in almost no time at all, and joined her under the warm spray of the shower. The water beat down on him, leaving tracks through the dirt and dust and all the other things on his skin that Jess didn't care to identify. It dripped from the ends of his hair and off the tip of his nose.

Jess reached her hands up to run her fingers through Becker's quickly dampening hair and he sank down to his knees, kneeling on the wet tile and bending his head forward. Jess washed his beautiful, soft hair with shampoo that smelled of apples. She scrubbed at his scalp, scraping her nails lightly against his head, and let the suds rinse away.

Back on his feet, Becker simply watched her, watched her dispense the shower gel into her hands. He remained quiet, his demeanor submissive.

Jess started at his neck and moved to his shoulders, rubbing her hands over his skin. She washed him with her hands, feeling the familiar strength of him that was always coiled just beneath the surface, feeling every twitch and every movement. She could see the muscles shift beneath his skin, across his shoulders, down the long line of his back, and to the curve of his bum.

For several minutes she kneaded into the tenseness of his muscles, wanting to soothe him of every last bit of stress, all the anxiety he held within him. The weight of trying to keep them all safe, every last thing he blamed himself for and held himself responsible for, whether it should actually be on him or not.

She moved around to his front, letting her fingers catch in the hair on his solid chest, tracing over the place she liked to lay her head when they were in bed together. She smoothed her hands downwards over the faint quivering of his flat stomach.

Jess moved her hands over his scars, the old faded marks and the newer ones. She touched the uneven ridges of scar tissue and thought about how he'd got them.

With care and attention Jess washed each of Becker's arms, the arms she so loved to admire as he held a gun or lifted a box. She washed the knobs of his elbows and his forearms and his lovely hands, callused and rough and completely lovely. Jess could never look at Becker's hands without thinking of how he used them, used them to protect her, used them to save people. She carefully cleaned each of his long fingers that knew so well how to please her.

Becker's cock was hard in her small hand as she took a moment to pay it mind as well, long enough to earn the small sound Becker made but not long enough by far in his opinion, she was sure. She washed the swell of his buttocks and knelt to wash his legs, from the sensitive area high up on the insides of his thighs all the way down to his firm calves and his ankles.

She guided Becker to rest his hands on her shoulders as she washed his feet, his arches and each of his toes. She gently massaged the pads of his feet and thought of all the times Becker had rubbed hers after a long day in heels.

Jess stood back up and let her fingertips dance lightly down Becker's sides, down his perfectly clean skin. She looked up into Becker's face, saw the way he was still watching her, saw how his dark hair lay plastered against his head. She went up on her toes and Becker bent to meet her, stopping just short of kissing, their breath puffing against each other's faces.

"Now," she said, while the water beat down on them. "Now. Now you can touch me."

_**End**_


End file.
